Saturday, July 31, 2010

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [6 of 128]

  • So Mulani took it from me for hours in our three, count them, three non-work related escapades. Efficient? No. Time consuming. Yes.
  • Taking a break that's supposed to only last an hour and coming back sweaty, smelling like your sexy workmate, that's an efficiency problem.
  • I compromised my integrity. I hoped she'd say, "I'm leaving him. I love you," then hold my hand and see the great waterfalls of the world.
  • That's the web of adultery: inefficient babbling of one gorilla to another while pumping on an ass, eating leaves. I'd make a great monkey.
  • When people are at work, do they think about work, or are they thinking about sex, blowjobs, touching, caressing, lunch-time shenanigans?
  • Lollipops are the oral dose of sexcapade medicine that's legal in the workplace. I'll take a red one.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [5 of 128]

  • So I just wrote an email to Mulani. I realize she hasn't been efficient in relationship with her asshole husband. Note: look up fungible.
  • He's a semi-pro soccer player who just spent more than a year overseas screwing God knows how many South American prostitutes and bimbos.
  • You'd think missing the birth of his kid would've pissed off Mulani. Or his lack of phone calls…
  • Or his once-in-a-blue moon insincere jests of marital love (just after brothel moments). A clear indication of an inefficient marriage.
  • There's so much more. But my point? You're right. There's no efficiency anywhere. So I spilled my guts in an erroneous work-related email:
  • “I guess there's always some idiot Jodie Foster around who develops feelings for the monster, knowing full well the man ate brains.”
  • Pondering:If sex were efficient it would take two seconds. We would all be monkeys, humping, then eating leaves and worms and lazing about.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [4 of 128]

  • Two.
  • Perfectly compartmentalized sits endless cubicles with computers in each, all cozily networked, each with a chair fit for lumbar support.
  • On each desk rests pictures of Buildicon's idyllic families, all non-management: husbands hugging wives, children with perfect white teeth.
  • Cork boards are filled with exotic faraway images of Modesto, Fresno, Van Nuys and California City--the desert town that never grows.
  • Desk cities: Kleenex boxes, staplers, tape holders; endless stacks of paper dotted in red ink. Burger King toys that can light up and spin.
  • At my desk now thinking about Frederick Taylor. He's the bastard from yesteryear who was so efficient with his hard-on for time management.
  • How much time did he waste picking up shovels? The average Joe will always find a way to dig a hole and dog work at the same time.
  • It's what all of us clock watchers do. We are humans and not automatons. I sigh. It's another day at the office.
 

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [3 of 128]

  • When I get near Buildicon I stare up. The windows are dirty, dusty. I walk through the parking garage to the foyer. Bankers, lawyers pass.
  • Then I see faithful Buildicon workers--all people like me who infest this building. I silently curse the elevator. The doors open.
  • I step in. I beg for this to not be the time I get stuck as it chugs toward the third floor. "Please, not me today.
  • I didn't eat a hearty breakfast..." Elevator sickness... Are there rooms ants hate, that grubs detest? A type of wood chamber for a termite
  • --a moment when a cocoon is a prison? "I don't care if I get stuck in the elevator. As long as you do my work."
  • That's what Mulani, a true time-managed Buildicon employee, says.
  • Such kernels of truth are nothing a Rolex after five years of faithful employment can fix. The doors swing open. I walk toward marketing.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [2 of 128]

  • What else can I do but shut the door behind me and start walking? I don't have a goddam car. And yes, it's because I'm not well paid.
  • The grey skyline doesn't tower too far above wide, empty streets. From several blocks away I can see Buildicon Enterprises.
  • Buildicon uses a four-story bank as its home base for product development, marketing, tech support and shipping.
  • I see a line of ants on the sidewalk. They seem to be walking to Buidicon. I imagine them taking my place, in cubicles, hardly working.
  • Boxy, the structure looms above the dirty horizon. Lines of ants spill into gutters and cracks. A leaf is carried with them like
  • a stretcher. I imagine myself falling down exhausted, shrinking, lying on the leaf and carried into the darkness of small places.
  • I'm not thinking about Mulani, not right now anyway. I pass a school auditorium, looks like a Lego.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Small Places : Nick L Belardes [1 of 128]

One.
Ive grown to like small places. I like bugs, bug homes, walking stick bugs, blades of grass, ladybug Ferris wheels made out of dandelions.
I like puddles, segments of reflections in dew and the parable of the bagworms I once made up. Ill tell you later.
On the other side of my apartment window is a dirty grey compartment of Central California sky.
It's right there; just on the other side of a wall, through a piece of glass, through an unopened doorway, even beneath cracks in the floor
Endless grey corporate sky. Above valley cities, cubicles of dirty air. I can see the grey, can practically taste a chunk of cottony smog.
I tie my shoes. No great mystery about this cul de sac. Southern valley catcher's mitt of mountains harbors the worst air in the nation.
Just read the headlines in other cities. You won't necessarily read it here in this all-American city, though everyone around here knows it

Saturday, July 24, 2010

An Aesop Fable: The Ass and the Grasshopper [1 of 1]

  • An Ass having heard some Grasshoppers chirping, was highly enchanted; and, desiring to possess the same charms of melody,
  • demanded what sort of food they lived on to give them such beautiful voices. They replied, "The dew."
  • The Ass resolved that he would live only upon dew, and in a short time died of hunger. The End.
  • Next Broadcasted Story : 26 July 2010 : Small Places : Nick Belardes

Friday, July 23, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [32 of 32]

  • The man in the chair said, "Well, let's get this stuff over. I'm afraid you'll have to answer a few questions so that
  • I can fill in this combat report. Let me see now, first of all, what was your squadron?"
  • The man in the bed did not move. He looked straight at the Wing Commander and he said, "My name is Peter Williamson.
  • My rank is Squadron Leader and my number is nine seven two four five seven."
  • The End.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [31 of 32]

  • She beckoned with her hand and the Wing Commander came in. "Sorry to bother you like this," he said. He was an ordinary RAF officer,
  • dressed in a uniform which was a little shabby, and he wore wings and a DFC. He was fairly tall and thin with plenty of black hair.
  • His teeth, which were irregular and widely spaced, stuck out a little even when he closed his mouth.
  • As he spoke he took a printed form and a pencil from his pocket, and he pulled up a chair and sat down.
  • "How are you feeling?" There was no answer. "Tough luck about your leg. I know how you feel.
  • I hear you put up a fine show before they got you." The man in the bed was lying quite still, watching the man in the chair.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [30 of 32]

  • And there was a sentence running through his head. It was a sentence which Johnny, the Intelligence Officer of his squadron,
  • always repeated to the pilots every day before they went out. He could see Johnny now, leaning against the wall of the dispersal hut
  • with his pipe in his hand, saying, "And if they get you, don't forget, just your name, rank and number. Nothing else.
  • For God's sake, say nothing else." "There you are," she said as she put the tray on his lap. "I've got you an egg. Can you manage all right?"
  • "Yes." She stood beside the bed. "Are you feeling all right?" "Yes." "Good. If you want another egg I might be able to get you one."
  • "This is all right." "Well, just ring the bell if you want any more." And she went out. He had just finished eating,
  • when the nurse came in again. She said, "Wing Commander Roberts is here. I've told him that he can only stay for a few minutes."

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [29 of 32]

  • They never looked at anything for more than a moment and they moved too quickly from one place to another in the room.
  • There was something about her movements also. They were too sharp and nervous to go well with the casual manner in which she spoke.
  • She set down the basin, took off his pajama top and began to wash him. "Did you sleep well?" "Yes." "Good," she said.
  • She was washing his arms and his chest. "I believe there's someone coming down to see you from the Air Ministry after breakfast,"
  • she went on. "They want a report or something. I expect you know all about it. How you got shot down and all that.
  • I won't let him stay long, so don't worry." He did not answer. She finished washing him, and gave him a toothbrush and some tooth powder.
  • He brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and spat the water out into the basin. Later she brought him his breakfast on a tray,
  • but he did not want to eat. He was still feeling weak and sick, and he wished only to lie still and think about what had happened.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [28 of 32]

  • Quickly he knelt down again, crawled back to the bed and hoisted himself in. He pulled the bedclothes over himself and
  • lay back on the pillow, exhausted. He could still think of nothing at all except the small sign by the hedge,
  • and the plowed field and the orchard. It was the words on the sign that he could not forget.
  • It was some time before the nurse came in. She came carrying a basin of hot water and she said, "Good morning, how are you today?"
  • He said, "Good morning, nurse." The pain was still great under the bandages, but he did not wish to tell this woman anything.
  • He looked at her as she busied herself with getting the washing things ready. He looked at her more carefully now. Her hair was very fair.
  • She was tall and big-boned, and her face seemed pleasant. But there was something a little uneasy about her eyes. They were never still.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

'@Small Places' is coming - wahoo!

The story that kicked of the maddness of creating Tweetarrator is about to launch...

Yes thats right Nick Belardes' '@Small Places' will be retweeted for the first time since its original posting @smallplaces.  It will be tweeted through @Tweetarrator and posted here at tweetarrator.com and facebook.

Those who followed Nick's tweets will be familiar with this little bug icon...  Follow it again for the next 5 months... tell your friends... this is going to be great.




Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [27 of 32]

  • He stood there balancing on one leg and holding tightly to the edges of the window sill with his hands,
  • staring at the sign and at the whitewashed lettering of the words. For a moment he could think of nothing at all.
  • He stood there looking at the sign, repeating the words over and over to himself, and then slowly he began to realize the full meaning
  • of the thing. He looked up at the cottage and at the plowed field. He looked at the small orchard on the left of the cottage and
  • he looked at the green countryside beyond. "So this is France," he said. "I am in France."
  • Now the throbbing in his right thigh was very great. It felt as though someone was pounding the end of his stump with a hammer,
  • and suddenly the pain became so intense that it affected his head and for a moment he thought he was going to fall.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [26 of 32]

  • He was looking at the hedge when he saw the sign. It was just a piece of board nailed to the top of a short pole,
  • and because the hedge had not been trimmed for a long time, the branches had grown out around the sign so that it seemed
  • almost as though it had been placed in the middle of the hedge. There was something written on the board with white paint,
  • and he pressed his head against the glass of the window, trying to read what it said. The first letter was a G, he could see that.
  • The second was an A, and the third was an R. One after another he managed to see what the letters were.
  • There were three words, and slowly he spelled the letters out aloud to himself as he managed to read them.
  • G-A-R-D-E A-U C-H-I-E-N. Garde au chien. That is what it said.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [25 of 32]

  • With two arms and one leg, he crawled over towards the window. He would reach forward as far as he could with his arms,
  • then he would give a little jump and slide his left leg along after them. Each time he did, it jarred his wound so that he
  • gave a soft grunt of pain, but he continued to crawl across the floor on two hands and one knee. When he got to the window he reached up,
  • and one at a time he placed both hands on the sill. Slowly he raised himself up until he was standing on his left leg.
  • Then quickly he pushed aside the curtains and looked out.
  • He saw a small house with a gray tiled roof standing alone beside a narrow lane, and immediately behind it there was a plowed field.
  • In front of the house there was an untidy garden, and there was a green hedge separating the garden from the lane.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [24 of 32]

  • The idea became an obsession with him, and soon he could think of nothing except the window. But what about his leg?
  • He put his hand underneath the bedclothes and felt the thick bandaged stump which was all that was left on the right-hand side.
  • It seemed all right. It didn't hurt. But it would not be easy. He sat up.
  • Then he pushed the bedclothes aside and put his left leg on the floor. Slowly, carefully, he swung his body over until
  • he had both hands on the floor as well; and then he was out of bed, kneeling on the carpet. He looked at the stump.
  • It was very short and thick, covered with bandages. It was beginning to hurt and he could feel it throbbing.
  • He wanted to collapse, lie down on the carpet and do nothing, but he knew that he must go on.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [23 of 32]

  • He looked around the room. The nurse had taken the roses out the night before, and there was nothing except the table with a packet of
  • cigarettes, a box of matches and an ash tray. Otherwise, it was bare. It was no longer warm or friendly. It was not even comfortable.
  • It was cold and empty and very quiet. Slowly the grain of doubt grew, and with it came fear, a light, dancing fear that warned
  • but did not frighten; the kind of fear that one gets not because one is afraid, but because one feels that there is something wrong.
  • Quickly the doubt and the fear grew so that he became restless and angry, and when he touched his forehead with his hand,
  • he found that it was damp with sweat. He knew then that he must do something; that he must find some way of proving to himself that
  • he was either right or wrong, and he looked up and saw again the window and the green curtains. From where he lay,
  • that window was right in front of him, but it was fully ten yards away. Somehow he must reach it and look out.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [22 of 32]

  • "I will prove that I am not crazy. I will make a little speech about something complicated and intellectual.
  • I will talk about what to do with Germany after the war." But before he had time to begin, he was asleep.
  • He woke just as the first light of day was showing through the slit in the curtains over the window. The room was still dark,
  • but he could tell that it was already beginning to get light outside. He lay looking at the grey light which was showing through
  • the slit in the curtain, and as he lay there he remembered the day before. He remembered the Junkers 88's and the hardness of the water;
  • he remembered the large pleasant nurse and the kind doctor, and now the small grain of doubt took root in his mind and it began to grow.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [21 of 32]

  • She rinsed the flannel in the basin, wiped the soap off his leg, and dried him with a towel. "It's nice to be washed," he said.
  • "I feel better." He was feeling his face with his hands. "I need a shave." "We'll do that tomorrow," she said.
  • "Perhaps you can do it yourself then." That night he could not sleep. He lay awake thinking of the Junkers 88's and
  • of the hardness of the water. He could think of nothing else. They were JU-88's, he said to himself. I know they were.
  • And yet it is not possible, because they would not be flying around so low over here in broad daylight. I know that it is true,
  • and yet I know that it is impossible. Perhaps I am ill. Perhaps I am behaving like a fool and do not know what I am doing or saying.
  • Perhaps I am delirious. For a long time he lay awake thinking these things, and once he sat up in bed and said aloud,

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [20 of 32]

  • As he said it he remembered something. He remembered the baths which he used to take at school in Brighton,
  • in the long stone-floored bathroom which had four baths in a room. He remembered how the water was so soft that you had to take a shower
  • afterwards to get all the soap off your body, and he remembered how the foam used to float on the surface of the water,
  • so that you could not see your legs underneath. He remembered that sometimes they were given calcium tablets because the school doctor used
  • to say that soft water was bad for the teeth. "In Brighton," he said, "the water isn't . . ." He did not finish the sentence.
  • Something had occurred to him; something so fantastic and absurd that for a moment he felt like telling the nurse about it and
  • having a good laugh. She looked up. "The water isn't what?" she said. "Nothing," he answered. "I was dreaming.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [19 of 32]

  • She had finished washing his chest and arms, and now she turned back the bedclothes, so that his left leg was uncovered.
  • She did it in such a way that his bandaged stump remained under the sheets. She undid the cord of his pajama trousers and took them off.
  • There was no trouble because they had cut off the right trouser leg, so that it could not interfere with the bandages.
  • She began to wash his left leg and the rest of his body. This was the first time he had had a bed bath, and he was embarrassed.
  • She laid a towel under his leg, and she was washing his foot with the flannel. She said, "This wretched soap won't lather at all.
  • It's the water. It's as hard as nails." He said, "None of the soap is very good now and, of course, with hard water it's hopeless."

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [18 of 32]

  • She had taken off his pajama top and was soaping his right arm with a flannel. He did not answer.
  • She rinsed the flannel in the water, rubbed more soap on it, and began to wash his chest.
  • "You're looking fine this evening," she said. "They operated on you as soon as you came in. They did a marvelous job.
  • You'll be all right. I've got a brother in the RAF," she added. "Flying bombers." He said, "I went to school in Brighton."
  • She looked up quickly. "Well, that's fine," she said. "I expect you'll know some people in the town." "Yes," he said, "I know quite a few."

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [17 of 32]

  • Once toward evening he heard the noise of another aircraft. It was far away, but even so he knew that it was a single-engined machine.
  • But he could not place it. It was going fast; he could tell that. But it wasn't a Spit, and it wasn't a Hurricane Fighter Air Craft.
  • It did not sound like an American engine either. They make more noise. He did not know what it was, and it worried him greatly.
  • Perhaps I am very ill, he thought. Perhaps I am imagining things. Perhaps I am a little delirious. I simply do not know what to think.
  • That evening the nurse came in with a basin of hot water and began to wash him.
  • "Well," she said, "I hope you don't still think that we're being bombed."

Monday, July 5, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [16 of 32]

  • The nurse came up to the side of his bed and began to straighten out the sheets and tuck them in under the mattress.
  • "Gracious me, what things you imagine. You mustn't worry about a thing like that. Would you like me to get you something to read?"
  • "No, thank you." She patted his pillow and brushed back the hair from his forehead with her hand.
  • "They never come over in daylight any longer. You know that. They were probably Lancasters or Flying Fortresses." "Nurse." "Yes."
  • "Could I have a cigarette?" "Why certainly you can." She went out and came back almost at once with a packet of Players and some matches.
  • She handed one to him and when he had put it in his mouth, she struck a match and lit it.
  • "If you want me again," she said, "just ring the bell," and she went out.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [15 of 32]

  • The aircraft was always far away, and soon the noise faded away into the distance. Later on there was another.
  • This one, too, was far away, but there was the same deep undulating bass and the high singing tenor, and there was no mistaking it.
  • He had heard that noise every day during the battle. He was puzzled. There was a bell on the table by the bed.
  • He reached out his hand and rang it. He heard the noise of footsteps down the corridor, and the nurse came in.
  • "Nurse, what were those airplanes?" "I'm sure I don't know. I didn't hear them. Probably fighters or bombers.
  • I expect they were returning from France. Why, what's the matter?" "They were JU-88's. I'm sure they were JU-88's.
  • I know the sound of the engines. There were two of them. What were they doing over here?"

Friday, July 2, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [14 of 32]

  • He lay listening to the sound of its engines. It was a long way away. I wonder what it is, he thought. Let me see if I can place it.
  • Suddenly he jerked his head sharply to one side. Anyone who has been bombed can tell the noise of a Junkers 88.
  • They can tell most other German bombers for that matter, but especially a Junkers 88. The engines seem to sing a duet.
  • There is a deep vibrating bass voice and with it there is a high pitched tenor.
  • It is the singing of the tenor which makes the sound of a JU-88 something which one cannot mistake.
  • He lay listening to the noise, and he felt quite certain about what it was. But where were the sirens, and where the guns?
  • That German pilot certainly had a nerve coming near Brighton alone in daylight.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Beware the Dog : Roald Dahl [13 of 32]

  • "Well, well," he said. "So you've decided to wake up at last. How are you feeling?" "I feel all right."
  • "That's the stuff. You'll be up and about in no time." The doctor took his wrist to feel his pulse.
  • "By the way," he said, "some of the lads from your squadron were ringing up and asking about you. They wanted to come along and see you,
  • but I said that they'd better wait a day or two. Told them you were all right, and that they could come and see you a little later on.
  • Just lie quiet and take it easy for a bit. Got something to read?" He glanced at the table with the roses.
  • "No. Well, nurse will look after you. She'll get you anything you want." With that he waved his hand and went out,
  • followed by the large clean nurse. When they had gone, he lay back and looked at the ceiling again.
  • The fly was still there and as he lay watching it he heard the noise of an airplane in the distance.